


Dates & Cities TBA: Visitor's Pass #608

by genee



Series: Dates & Cities TBA [2]
Category: Bandom, Popslash
Genre: Dr. K., M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-07
Updated: 2007-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-15 21:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genee/pseuds/genee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Pete's staring daggers across the catering tables, his eyes narrowed, his lips pressed in a thin line. Chris lets his shoulder bump against Pete's as he looks closer, looks to see what Pete sees, Patrick's hat turned up at the edges, his hair longer than it was when Chris first met him, his skin flushed pink. Chris sees what Pete sees, no problem, sees Patrick's hand on JC's shoulder, sees JC nodding happily, his hands in the air between them, their thighs pressed together on the bench.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"You said he was cool," Pete accuses, and Chris looks appropriately shocked.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dates & Cities TBA: Visitor's Pass #608

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doitninetimes](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=doitninetimes).



Chris wakes up just north of Miami, the bus rolling down the interstate, shadows and memories and for a second he isn't sure what year it is, JC laughing in the kitchen, loud and unconcerned. Chris scrubs his fingers through his hair and pulls the curtain back, blinks in the half-light, listens. Craig's telling stories about the guys on tour and their tattoos, who's a pussy in the chair, who's got ink in secret places, and JC sounds like he's been hanging out with Craig forever, asking about the people he knows, asking about Patrick.

Chris knows Patrick isn't a big fan of needles, and of course, JC isn't either. Craig says something about pretty singer-boys, and Chris washes up in the bathroom, cold water and Crest and he'd be pissed about the time if he didn't know JC wouldn't be laughing like that if there wasn't already coffee, if he didn't know Chris had a ton of stuff to do.

JC was crashed out in Chris's bunk after the show in Atlanta, his hair a mess, Lance's fingerprints on his hips. Chris had pressed his mouth to the base of JC's throat, his hands over the marks Lance left behind, messages on JC's skin, _I miss you_ and _See you soon_ , and JC wrapped around him just like always, his dick hard against Chris's belly, his smile almost everything Chris needs.

 

* * *

 

Pete's staring daggers across the catering tables, his eyes narrowed, his lips pressed in a thin line. Chris lets his shoulder bump against Pete's as he looks closer, looks to see what Pete sees, Patrick's hat turned up at the edges, his hair longer than it was when Chris first met him, his skin flushed pink. Chris sees what Pete sees, no problem, sees Patrick's hand on JC's shoulder, sees JC nodding happily, his hands in the air between them, their thighs pressed together on the bench.

"You said he was cool," Pete accuses, and Chris looks appropriately shocked. "You did!"

"Dude, no," Chris says, steering Pete towards an empty table. "I've said a lot of shit about C in my lifetime, but I did _not_ say that. "

"Fine," Pete says, poking at what might be macaroni and cheese, but probably isn't. Chris learned the hard way that most of the food on this tour isn't actually what it looks like. "You said he was harmless, though."

Chris can't remember if he said that or not, he might have, it sounds like something he would say. "JC's all about the music, and right now, Patrick _is_ music."

Pete sniffs a little, and it sounds like a question. Chris wonders if it's possible he's only just now noticing the smell. It can't be. Pete says, "You're not helping."

"Do you need help, Pete?" Chris pushes his sunglasses up on his head. It's hot, and the guys at the table behind them are talking about the guitar tech chick who won't put out and how the merch girls all have crabs, and Chris would like to smack the shit out of half the guys on this tour, no lie. He clears his throat, folds his hand on the table. "Pete?"

Pete sighs. "He's gorgeous, and he thinks just like Patrick, and I've never heard him say anything mean about anybody, ever. He's, like, the anti-me."

"And?"

"And he leaves marks on Patrick's skin, and Patrick won't talk about him, and it's stupid, okay? I'm not jealous."

Chris nods. Not jealous. Right. Christ, he misses Lance. "So, which part of this do you need help with?"

"The part where Patrick won't talk to me about his sex life! I tell him everything!"

JC tasted like Patrick when he kissed Chris this morning, like red wine and awkward pauses and something Chris couldn't quite put his finger on, and Chris wishes there were things he could un-know.

 

* * *

 

Patrick's waiting for him at the venue in Charlotte, fiddling with the Rubik's Cube in Chris's make-shift office, a hat Chris recognizes as JC's pulled way down low. "I love him, you know," Patrick says, and Chris nods carefully, keeps his expression in check. "Pete, I mean. JC's cool, though."

"Right," Chris says, nodding some more. JC's been gone a few days already, and Chris reminds himself it's not his job to teach these kids what 'cool' actually means. "What's up, Patrick?"

"Pete thinks he's too much, and he is, sometimes, but not the way he thinks. He thinks he's too much, and not enough." Patrick swallows hard, puts the Rubik's Cube on the table. "He thinks he's a burden."

"Is he?"

"No!" Patrick sounds wrecked, adamant. "No," he says again, softer this time. "I don't know. Sometimes. I don't care, though. None of this would be anything without him. I wouldn't want any of this without him."

Patrick looks like he would have rather thrown himself under one of the buses than have said any of that out loud, and Chris knows this is one of those moments, knows what he says next will either mean Patrick comes to him when Pete gets to be too much or he just sucks it up, tries to deal with everything on his own.

"I get that," Chris says, and Patrick drags his hands across his face. Chris waits until he looks up again, meets his eyes. "Look, the truth is, I didn't go back to school after NSYNC because I had some burning desire to learn, I went back because I didn't want to be on stage with anyone but them."

Patrick blinks, and his whole body relaxes a little, and Chris knows he said the right thing. "Shit, okay," Patrick says, finally, and then, "Hey, Pete says we're starting a trend here, bringing a psychologist out on tour. Everyone's gonna want you now."

"Yeah, well," he says, smirking. "Been there, done that, got the action figures to prove it. The JC one is freaky, dude. Remind me later and I'll show it to you, okay?"

The tour swings back through New York the week after next, and Chris has four days off, just him and Lance and Lance's life in the city, and Chris can hardly wait. He thinks about Patrick sitting in their kitchen back home, Pete's appointment long over, his keys on the table and his fingernails bitten low, remembers the way he looked when he asked Chris to come out on tour with them, not just for Pete but for everyone, the whole tour, his voice hopeful and uncertain still, like he wasn't sure Chris would do it, wasn't sure he'd understand.

"Come find me any time, man," Chris says now, but Patrick's already wiping his hands on his thighs as he stands up, reaching for the door. Chris understands perfectly. "On second thought, let's schedule you an appointment before you go."

 

 

\-- End --


End file.
